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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26253937">Day 1: Crux</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crowsister/pseuds/Crowsister'>Crowsister</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>FFxivWrite2020 [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Final Fantasy XIV</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Rating is for swearing, Tumblr: FFXIVwrite2020, lightly touched upon grief</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 03:22:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,866</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26253937</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crowsister/pseuds/Crowsister</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Mahri Rhivesa confronts the heart -- the crux -- of her return to the Jackal family.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>foreshadowed Mahri/Arkas, platonic pile</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>FFxivWrite2020 [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1907314</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>#FFxivWrite Final Fantasy 30 Day Writing Challenge - Complete Works</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Day 1: Crux</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is Anathema Verse Mahri, so this is very much Mahri in her RP sense. Credit to Josie and Jack to my friend Rex, to whomst they belong. I borrowed J'inthe from them to be Mahri's mother <i>ages</i> ago and it feels good to finally write her out. Grigorii was flushed out on the fly here, but I love him? He's good. Arkas belongs to my date-mate.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mahri paced behind the pub. She ran her hands through her hair, muttering into her linkpearl, “I can’t do this.”</p><p>“You can,” came the rumbled answer. “If you back out now, I <em> will </em>come over there.”</p><p>Mahri groaned. “I’m going to kick past me for setting up this agreement with you, Arkas.”</p><p>“You know your anxiety and set safeguards in case your courage faltered.” While carrying his characteristic rumble, Arkas’s vocal tone was in the gentle style he used with her from time to time between blue moons. “You <em>can </em>do this. Jack will be there, won’t she?”</p><p>“Considering that she’s setting this whole meeting up...yes,” Mahri answered, running her hands through her hair again. “I’m just worried.”</p><p>“Mahri Rhivesa,” Arkas’s voice was infused with fond amusement, “X’ess Hyre, J’hustyne-”</p><p>“Oschon, preserve me, I have too many names.”</p><p>“-little phoenix, whatever name that will drive this point home the hardest; you are <em>always </em>worried. I don’t think you’ve relaxed a <em> single </em>day in your life. I believe you’re still tense in your <em>sleep. </em> The day you’re not worrying over <em> something </em> is the day the universe dies of heat death.”</p><p>“...I’m <em> sorry, </em> your people have a prophecy or something about the universe dying to <em> fire?” </em> Mahri put her back to the alley wall and slid down, slowly resting on her toes.</p><p>Arkas huffed into his linkpearl. “It’s complicated. Rest assured, it’s not a prophecy, it’s a <em> theory, </em> and it does <em> not </em>entail that the universe will be set aflame by a small cat-girl.”</p><p>“...okay.”</p><p>“It’s also not going to happen from you meeting your biological parents,” Arkas gently added. “The plan is to go in there, let them know you’re alive — that you don’t expect anything of them, then leave when polite, yes?”</p><p>“...yeah.” Mahri slowly stood up. “I’m not asking for anything, and they already said yes to meeting me...so there’s nothing they can say no to. There’s no reason t’be nerves and embers; I’ll be fine as long as I remember.”</p><p>“Mmmhmm. Remember your stance and don’t let any of them pressure you, Jack included,” Arkas replied. “Now, what do you want from this?”</p><p>“Communication, so I don’t have any regrets in the trenches,” Mahri answered.</p><p>“Good. Call me when you are in the clear.” Arkas’s end was filled with monsters’ shrieking. “I may be busy, but I’ll make the time.”</p><p>“An adventurer’s schedule: monster-slaying at noon, helping a friend decompress at three,” Mahri joked. “Singe one for me, would you?”</p><p>There was a pregnant pause. “I’ll bring a pelt back,” Arkas answered slowly. Mahri detected a tinge of hope in the undercurrent of his distinctive speaking voice.</p><p>“Oh! Cool, thank you,” Mahri replied, not realizing she just took half a step into courtship methods older than some countries. “Stay safe.”</p><p>“Keep warm.”</p><p>Mahri nodded to herself as the connection ended. She clapped her hands together, bounced on her feet a little, then rolled her shoulders back. “Okay. Let’s do...this.” She prowled around to the front of the tavern, slipping in through the door.</p><p>She did a quick scan of the room before she could stop herself. It was quiet, but that was because it was earlier than the dinner rush and later than the lunch rush. Four people in the room, no hostile air, the escape routes were intact. Jack and Aunt Josie at the bar, whispering to each other, and a...miqo’te and a hrothgar at a table near the back by the fireplace.</p><p>The miqo’te was lean and small, a cane near her at the table. Her black hair was pulled up into a thick ponytail, a braid lining some of it. Mahri could catch some grey woven in, like captured moonlight. Her skin was tan, kissed and weathered by the sun, from what Mahri could spot from her shawl and modest dress. The miqo’te’s tail twitched the same way Mahri’s did whenever she was anxious.</p><p>The hrothgar, on the other hand, was physically bigger. Not the biggest hrothgar Mahri had seen by far, but he was large compared to the miqo’te in the room. Though, putting her memory of Commander Ostulmsyn next to him, Mahri figured the hrothgar would be shorter. Smaller. He was lean. His fur was black as her hair, but he had stripes like <em>her. </em>She could see the hauntingly familiar grey stripes subtly show through the lamplight. Hells, he had <em>her </em>tail (or was it that she had <em>his</em> tail?). His head flicked in a way that Mahri felt was <em>too</em> recognizable: he was casing. She could see him lean over to the miqo’te and whisper; Mahri wondered if he spotted the same security hazard of the latches on the windows that she had when she first came into the Jackal’s Bark months ago. They were older Yuyune design, with brass latches a little too skinny to prevent brute force entry if someone was <em>determined</em> enough not to care.</p><p>Mahri jolted from her observation when she heard a soft “hmm hmm” noise. She looked over at its point of origin, the bar, and saw Josie gesturing to get on with it.</p><p>“Um,” Mahri replied, “hi?”</p><p>
  
</p><p>The couple at the table snapped their heads to look at her, and their eyes grew wide. The staring between them and Mahri made the silence <em>heavy, </em>almost suffocating.</p><p>Mahri began, “I, um-”</p><p>“HUSTYNE!” The miqo’te was <em>scrambling </em>to stand, almost standing but then buckling. The hrothgar caught her, helping her stand and swiftly arming her with the cane she’d forgotten. The miqo’te barreled towards Mahri, her flats and cane making echoing smacks to the hardwood floor. Her arms flung around Mahri, the one with the cane around her stomach and the one without around her shoulders. She chittered words in hunt-speak, all of the direct sentiment swirling around Mahri’s head but the indirect feeling (the tone, especially) hitting Mahri directly in the gut.</p><p>She looked around the room, standing stiff as a statue. Her eyes locked with another set: the bright orange of the hrothgar’s. He gave her a nod, slowly crossing the room in long, roaming strides.</p><p>“Inthe,” he rumbled, “I do not think she knows what you are saying, little love.”</p><p>The miqo’te stopped, pulling back from the hug a little. “That- that <em> monster, </em>he didn’t-”</p><p>“He didn’t teach me a lot of things, ma’am,” Mahri replied. “Only learned a bit of basic geography five months ago. The start and end of the ‘cultural upbringing’ I had were Menphina and terrorizing the Shroud. Hunt-speak is a little beyond me, right now.”</p><p>The little miqo’te — her mother J’inthe, her mind supplied — shook. Her whole body shook, her tail poofed up like a stream of building smoke, and her fangs clicked as she spoke. “The fuckin’ nerve. The <em> fuckin’ </em> nerve-”</p><p>“Hey,” Mahri replied, moving her stiff arms. She awkwardly put her hands on her mother’s shoulders. “I’m getting better. I know you’re mad-”</p><p>“The day he stole you from me, Thata’tan wounded me <em>twice,” </em> J’inthe snarled. “My leg and my heart. I’m fuckin’ <em> livid.” </em></p><p>Mahri paused. “...I’m sorry.” Her mind scrambled for things to say. “If it makes it better, I speak Amaljic?”</p><p>That made J’inthe pause. “...he taught you that?”</p><p>“Nonono,” Mahri sputtered. “I um...sorry, I panicked and overshared. This is, um...a lot for my anxiety.”</p><p>“We are strangers to you,” the hrothgar replied. “It makes sense.”</p><p>Mahri nodded slowly, feeling shame well up in her gut. “Yeah. I’m...I’m sorry.”</p><p>“Oh, lass.” J’inthe backed up a little (but only a little). “Ye’ve nothin’ to be sorry about. Why don’t we start over?” She offered Mahri a hand (slight shake to it, Mahri could spot her tail anxiously twitching again). “M’name’s J’inthe. Ye can call me Inthe if ye please.”</p><p>“And I’m Grigorii Bozhenasch,” the hrothgar replied. “If I may be so bold, I believe you share my blood.”</p><p>Mahri’s lips twitched, almost into a smile. “A-ah, yes, that I do. For both of you.” She fiddled with the scarf around her neck. “I’ve got a lot of names. You both know me as J’hustyne, but most call me Mahri Rhivesa. It’s um...the name I give most folks.”</p><p>“Did he name you that?” J’inthe asked.</p><p>Mahri shook her head. “No. I did. It’s the fifth name I came up with: first, it was X’ess Hyre, then it was Ember for a bit, then two names so inconsequential they don’t even deserve a footnote, and then...Mahri Rhivesa.” She blushed. “I um...just like rolling the r’s, y’know? S’got style.”</p><p>The two of them looked at each other, then back to her. Grigorii gave her a toothy grin.</p><p>“I like the -vesa,” he replied. Mahri’s shoulders relaxed, and she smiled a bit. “It’s got <em>flare. </em> What is word, it has p at start, like-” he turned and growled a word to J’inthe in a language Mahri couldn’t even begin to recognize. It was like if hunt-speak and Eorzean Common had a baby with more teeth than a baby should ever have.</p><p>“Panache, dear heart,” J’inthe replied, smiling fondly at him. “You mean panache.”</p><p>He snapped his fingers. “Panache! It has <em> panache.” </em> He waggled his bushy eyebrows at Mahri. “I know all about panache. I drive chocobo cart, I see many people, I know panache and no panache, and -vesa has <em> panache.” </em> He held out his big hand to her. “It is wonderful to meet you, Mahri Rhivesa, finally.”</p><p>Tears welled up in her eyes. She gently took his hand. “It’s um...nice to meet you too. B-both of you.” She wiped her eyes with her other hand. “Oschon help me, I came in here just expecting to let you both know that I was alive and not to ask anything of you, but...”</p><p>“But?” J’inthe asked, near breathlessly.</p><p>“Is it...is it okay to ask if I could get to know you both better?” Mahri asked. She shifted from foot to foot, her tail twitching behind her. “Is that...is that okay?”</p><p>J’inthe’s brown eyes welled up with tears. “Oh, little star, of <em> course, </em> that’s okay.”</p><p>“We have been wanting to know you for your entire lifespan,” Grigorii added. “I used to daydream of teaching you gunblade. My father-”</p><p>“Are ye lot <em> still </em> standin’ in th’ doorway?” Josie called from the bar. “Go ‘nd sit down, loves. Jack’ll get ye somethin’ in a tick.”</p><p>“Mam-”</p><p>“No arguments!”</p><p>Mahri sent Jack an apologetic look, which Jack characteristically waved off with a jaunty wink as she went back into the kitchen.</p><p>She blinked as she felt a gentle hand at her elbow, looking to see her mother’s hand. She’d flashback to that for months after that moment: the sheer <em>care </em>in that one touch, the respect for her physical space. It was the safest point of physical contact. J’inthe’s hand was light and gentle, open for Mahri to pull away if she wanted. </p><p>J’inthe smiled at her, a silent question, before speaking. “Let’s get a table. Grigorii’s story about ‘ow his father ‘learned’ the gunblade is one that needs chairs.”</p><p>“Is a good story! It has <em> panache.” </em></p><p>Mahri chuckled softly, letting her mother lead her to the table she and her father had initially been sitting down.</p>
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